


Drawing with Light

by bstix



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Acceptance, Angst, Character Death, F/F, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 19:11:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13130208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bstix/pseuds/bstix
Summary: Emma and Henry adjust to life after Regina's death. A heartbreaking one-shot based on a prompt from a reviewer of A Cup of Coffee and a Bubble Bath. TW: Major Character Death.





	Drawing with Light

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is for ArchivingFF, an avid reviewer who asked for: "Can you write me something that will make me cry? I miss the weekly tears."
> 
> Wasn't CC n a BB enough? 

Emma was quietly mesmerized as she sat in a booth at Granny's and watched Henry sip his hot cocoa without looking up from his algebra homework. Her heart was warmed with pride as she contemplated the person he had become. He was passionate, loyal, and seemingly more intelligent than both his parents combined. She had only known him for a year, yet Emma couldn't fathom reverting to a time when she didn't have him in her life. Her mind wandered before realizing she felt the same about his adoptive mother; the woman who was most responsible for his character.

It was at Henry's whining insistence that these ritual weekly dinners on the neutral ground of Granny's had begun several months ago. The pretense was to have his two mothers develop a form of friendship that would make his life easier. Regina the Mayor had been Emma's antagonist, but could now only be classed as the Sherriff's best friend. Although it was never discussed, for each of the trio these gatherings were the highlight of their week, with trepidation and resentment dissipating into eager anticipation and longing without anyone consciously noticing.

Emma shifted uncomfortably as thunder was followed rapidly by lightning, prompting her to glance at the wall clock to note how increasingly late Regina was. With hope, she checked her phone once more for an explanation as to why only to be met with a blank notification screen. Her eyebrows furrowed and a frown formed as Emma wracked her brain to recall a time the Mayor had been late for anything.

"Maybe she's delayed because of the rain," Henry offered as he sensed Emma's cloud of worry engulf them, despite never shifting his eyes from focusing on his work.

"You're probably right, Kid," Emma replied with her signature covering smile. Emma knew Regina was perfectly fine, there were no incidents reported, and Regina's magic would protect her from almost anything. It was a trait the blonde was desperate to hone, though she would never admit it.

"Or it could be because we have a surprise for you," Henry suggested with a mischievous raising of his eyebrows as he dramatically closed his workbook.

"A surprise? For me?"

"Duh, it's your birthday in a few hours! Did you really think we would forget? It's a sort of important date for all of us." Henry's eyes glimmered with complete joy at Emma's horror. She was saved from stammering for a response by the ringing of her phone.

"Sherriff Swan." Henry sulked at Emma's resigned expression. "Okay, I'll be right there." With a sincere frown, Emma addressed her son, "Sorry Kid, there has been an accident and now duty calls. Can you wait here for your mom? I'll call her on the way over, so she knows."

"I can keep my eye on him," Granny helpfully called from behind the counter, earning an appreciative nod of acceptance from the blonde. They were the only customers who had ventured out during the wild storm, so it didn't surprise the Sherriff that their conversation had been so easily overheard.

"Don't think for a second that this gets you out of the surprise," Henry assured as he pulled out his storybook to peruse while he waited for his brunette mother.

Emma ruffled his hair before departing, with her thoughts entirely consumed by what Regina and Henry could possibly have masterminded. She tried to shift her focus to the latest crisis in Storybrooke as she exited the comfort of the diner and felt the lashing rain hit her flesh. As Emma pulled her keys from her pocket, a firetruck and ambulance passed her with sirens blaring. This completed the transition into full Sherriff mode as the blonde realized that she probably wasn't facing a simple insurance dispute, but a car accident with severe consequences. Her curiosity would just have to wait.

* * *

It was a short five-minute drive from the diner to the scene of the reported car accident. In that time Emma had contacted Regina and left a voicemail after receiving no answer. Her father had already arrived; his cruiser's flashing lights mixing with those from the other emergency vehicles which harshly bounced off her vibrant yellow bug. Combined, they jarringly illuminated the darkened road. Although the rain was beginning to finally ease, Emma still had to squint to bring her father into focus as he approached.

"Emma," David said cautiously. "I-," he added, stammering.

"Feeling squeamish?" She mocked back, continuing towards the eerily quiet crowd of people who seemed to be mostly standing around, rather than the organized rush Emma had expected.

"Emma don't. I can take care of this," David continued as he grabbed her arm to prevent her forward motion. Emma barely registered his words as she got closer to the vehicle that was facing her, its front decimated by the guard rail intended to separate the road from the embankment. The carnage had obscured the make and model of the car until Emma was only a few feet from the wreckage; she then recognized the vehicle was the familiar black Mercedes of the Mayor.

Emma threw her father's guiding arm away and ran towards the vehicle, desperate to see that Regina had magically transported herself out of harm's way before the car had smashed into the metallic barrier. Emma didn't register the feel of the glass that crunched under her feet, the smell of gasoline that was being covered with fireman's foam, or the sounds of hushed voices as she reached the crumpled car. It was a single visual that consumed Emma, brown hair slumped over a steering wheel, facing away from the road and her. The trepidation and horror that grew inside of Emma told her it was Regina, but she needed the certainty of confirmation.

She tried to open the driver's door, only for her efforts to be thwarted by the contorted metal that had sealed it into place. The blonde swiftly hurdled over the guard rail as she saw a solemn paramedic exit the passenger side and shake their head towards his colleagues, not realizing the Sheriff was suddenly on scene. In her haste, Emma slipped on the mud, using the now open passenger door for support.

"I'm sorry Sherriff-" the paramedic began as he helped steady the shaking, wide-eyed blonde.

"No, no! You have to help her," Emma almost screamed in a high-pitched tone. Mournful eyes met Emma's as he took a deep breath to offer additional condolences. Emma shook him off as she did her father and clambered into the passenger seat, desperate to see that it wasn't true, it wasn't Regina, that she was still here with them.

All of Emma's senses were immediately in overdrive. She smelled the blood and felt the rain and glass press into her knees from the seat below as she tried to process the horrific images her retinas were absorbing. She understood immediately why the medics weren't helping Regina; metal and flesh had become one. Emma was paralyzed, except for her eyes which wouldn't stop scanning, always ending on the barrier that destroyed the woman's body. A faint light between the pair emitting from Regina's cell phone caught the Sherriff's eye. Automatically she picked it up and read the open message stream between mother and son.

**Where are you? Ma and I are here. Got the cake?**

_Yes!_ _Be right there._

**Great. She'll love it right?**

_Hope_

Except Regina's life had ended before she had finished and sent the last message. At the realization that Regina's last word had been "hope", Emma felt warm tears trickle down her cheeks as ragged breathing caused her body to tremble. Her eyes traveled to the floor of the passenger's side, which had remained mostly intact during the collision, to find a large round plastic container that undoubtedly contained her birthday cake. Instinctively, Emma lifted the lid and used the glow from Regina's phone to see a homemade chocolate cake with white frosting declaring 'Happy Birthday Emma!'. After replacing the cover, Emma stared straight ahead out of what was left of the windshield, taking deep composing breaths, trying to quell the emotions erupting within her.

When she finally turned back to Regina, everything instantly stopped for Emma. It was as though she were in a vacuum, unable to hear the emergency personnel or her father call her name while he tried to coax her out of the car. Only her and Regina existed in this fragment of time and space. Slowly, Emma lowered her head, so her eyes were level with those of the brunette and desperately stared into Regina's dead, lifeless eyes.

* * *

Emma wiped away the remnants of her tears and removed signs that her mascara had run, even though the redness and puffy nature of her eyes were still evident. She rehearsed the words she would say to Henry when she saw him. Emma wanted to get him out of the diner, into the bug, where he could cry and scream or express whatever emotions he needed to with some form of privacy. She'd then take him to the loft, she reasoned, to be around family. The mansion would be too painful.  _You have to use the word dead_ she recalled,  _make it clear, don't be ambiguous, he's told old for that_.

The bug seemed to be on autopilot and arrived at Granny's entrance before Emma had even finished her first mental draft. The silence of the night air made her feel uneasy, amplifying her footsteps as she walked up the pathway, her mind absent from the present. The tring of the diner's bell, however, forced Emma to wake from her hypnotic stupor. Henry's head bopped up instantly, as did Granny's. No other patrons had arrived in her absence.

"Mom didn't come. She isn't answering her phone," Henry informed Emma, even though he felt her despair mixing with his anxiety which had risen inside him as he spent the night alone. "Is she with you, helping with whatever is wrong? I didn't call; I didn't want to distract you," he added searching his mother's facial expression for clues.

"Get your stuff, Kid," Emma said evenly as she gave Granny some cash to settle their bill before motioning to Henry to join her.

"Where's Mom? Why have you been crying? What is going on?" Henry demanded, standing his ground without fear of repercussions.

"Kid-" Emma started, before losing her composure, her lower lip quivering as she saw tears form in his eyes.

"Where's Mom?" He repeated, already knowing the answer.

* * *

David winced as he heavy-handedly closed the filing cabinet, causing the sound of it slamming shut to reverberate around the Sherriff station. He immediately looked over into his daughter's office where the blonde had fallen asleep, hunched over her desk, amidst paperwork pertaining to the Mayor's death a week previously. Each day he would come to work and hear a new theory, a new line of investigation Emma wished to pursue. It had become her obsession, which only convinced him that he had made the right decision in withholding logging one of Regina's personal effects until Emma was ready to see it.

He watched his daughter's head snap up. She took a second to orient herself, took a large gulp of cold coffee, and her eyes become expectant when she saw him.

"Did you find anything?" Emma asked urgently exiting her office, unmistakably optimistic that her father's trip to the mechanics had been fruitful.

"No, the car was clean from what Michael could tell. He's not used to assessing a vehicle after it has sustained so much damage though, never mind as part of an investigation."

"So, there might be something he missed?" Emma's expression wasn't one that displayed hopefulness, but rather annoyance.

"It's possible but unlikely." David started to read the report he had prepared. "He didn't find any evidence of tampering, including severing of the brakes, tool marks on vital mechanical components, or any elements which were of an extraordinary nature." David tried to calm the Sherriff with his warm eyes as he anticipated her mounting frustration.

"Argh." Emma emitted some of her fury by hitting his desk with clenched fists, before swiping the report from his hands and returning to her office. "I wish we could take all of this out of town, to professionals, to experts. We don't know how to do any of this. It's probably right here, in amongst all of this," she added, expressively moving her hands over the organized chaos of papers covering her desk. "Or the answer to who did this was lost in the rain, or because I contaminated the crime scene, or because we don't know how to take fingerprints properly."

David watched from the doorway as his daughter began to pace in the limited space in an attempt to expel the adrenaline that her mounting anger had pumped through her veins. He knew she was right, no one in Storybrooke was an experienced crime scene analyst. The little training the Sherriff's department had was mostly derived from 'how to's' on the internet. Despite this, he felt the investigation had been thorough, diligent, and methodical.

"Emma. I think we know what happened here." David paused, assessing how his next words might backfire. "You just need to accept it," he eventually added. Emma merely glared at him, demonstrating concisely that she was unwilling to hear his logical explanation once again. "Okay, tell me what you think happened?" David prodded, hoping that by pushing Emma to counter the evidence, she would realize there was no conspiracy concerning the Mayor's death.

"I don't know Dad. I just find it hard to believe that Regina died in a car accident. She had magic. It takes fewer reflexes to teleport than it does to hit the brakes, and she used her brakes; there are tire tracks on the road. She had seconds to get out of the car, yet she didn't. Someone had to have interfered."

"There's no evidence of that, magical or otherwise" David soothed, moving to rest a comforting hand on his daughter's upper arm. "I did the inventory myself. The text message was half written. She was distracted. She swerved, probably to avoid a deer and…"

"So, you want me to what? Give up? Tell my son that his mom is dead because she was texting him about a surprise for me in the rain, lost control of her car, and smashed it into a guard rail? That's what you want us all to accept; that this is what killed the former Evil Queen?"

Before David could develop an answer, the tension in the room increased exponentially as the pair simultaneously sensed another person had overheard their conversation. It surprised neither of them that Henry was standing close to the office door, his face distraught.

"If that's true then… I killed Mom?" Henry asked in a quivering voice, demonstrating his shock and desperation at this revelation. He was already shuffling backward from his family as he began to speak. It all made sense to him now; why his ma forewent sleep, why everyone was loose with the details as to what had happened that night.

"No, Kid." Emma offered her words laced with compassion and regret for her harsh, inaccurate analysis of the events. "I don't know what happened yet. We're still investigating-"

"But you shouldn't be! It was an accident that I caused! I killed my mom!" Henry screamed irrationally while trying to resist crying. Emma and David both attempted to approach, to offer him comfort. Henry though, didn't want to be touched, didn't want to feel relief. He ran with such haste out of the station, he almost fell trying to navigate the corridors and doors. Emma immediately moved in his direction only to have her father hold her back.

"I'll go. Go home, and we will meet you there when he is ready." David stopped and turned to meet his daughter's green eyes which were glistening with tears. "Just ask yourself, if this were anyone else, would you still be investigating?"

Emma slumped into her seat, defeated. She stared at the mass of paperwork she had produced in her pursuit of the truth. It had nothing to do with protecting Henry. There was a reason Regina was dead, and she was determined to find it.

* * *

A light dusting of snow began to cover Storybrooke during an early December afternoon as Emma and Henry were engaged in an intense gaming session of Diablo. The coffee table was scattered with evidence of their hibernation from the world, including emptied cocoa cups and bowls that once held popcorn.

"Another level?" Henry suggested with a mischievous grin.

"I think we should unpack more first," Emma conceded. "The deal was supposed to be a box per hour of game time, which means four boxes now." Emma watched as Henry's expression changed from joy to sorrow.

"If we unpack all the boxes, my fort will be destroyed," Henry said sadly as he looked towards his construction at the back of the room that included blankets, pillows, and a flashlight for late night reading.

The blonde's eyes flickered between the boxes and Henry, who had averted his eyes and stared blankly at his game controller. Emma carefully considered her next words since felt she hadn't navigated these conversations with Henry well thus far.

"Is it, perhaps, more about what's in them?" Emma gently pressed. It hadn't gone unnoticed that the boxes the boy had chosen for his fort were those that were undoubtedly full of Regina's memory; items that Henry had selected to keep which were as diverse in their nature as possible including pictures, ornaments, and the crockery in which she had made dinner for them.

"I miss her so much, Ma. If we empty them, then this is real; she's really not coming back." Emma reached for her son and was surprised that she could effortlessly embrace him.

"I know, Kid. I miss her too. But if we unpack her things and place them around the house, then wouldn't it be like she's still part of our lives?"

"You'd be okay with that? Having Mom's things on display in our new place?"

"Of course. Your mom was my best friend. I'd like to remember her too, even if it's hard sometimes. I know a lot has changed, living with me in a small apartment that could only be classed as a fixer-upper-"

"I wanted to move. It was too painful," Henry interjected. Silence engulfed the pair as Henry thought about the home he had left behind and Emma contemplated if the decision to start fresh was the right one. Anytime they were in the mansion it felt empty, and the agony of loss was unbearable. Moving on, literally, seemed to be the best decision for everyone.

"I'll never replace Regina. I'm not trying to do that. I'm not trying to dilute her memory either. We can go back there, live in your house if that's what you want."

"No. I… I just… I feel bad, Ma. That I had fun today. That for a while I forgot she wasn't here and that it is my fault," Henry added with tears increasing when Emma gave him a questioning look.

"You didn't kill your mother, Henry. Honestly. It was an accident. Regina was driving too fast in the rain while texting, which she knew was dangerous. They were her choices. None of that is your fault."

"So, you agree with Grandpa now?" Henry asked, astonished. Emma had never admitted it was an accident. Ever.

"No, I'm still searching for the reason Regina didn't use her magic," Emma added slowly as she tried to recover from the surprise of her own statement. "But if that is what happened, you didn't do this. And if she was texting you, then you, Henry, you got to be the last thing she thought about, and that's a gift. I hope you're the last thing I think about when it's my time." She stroked his hair as she delivered these words, which eased Henry enough to stop the torrent of tears he always shed when he felt this guilt. "And it's okay not to be sad all the time. Your mom wouldn't want you to be. Nothing made Regina happier than seeing you smile and hearing you laugh. She would want that for you."

"For us," Henry corrected. "She liked seeing you happy too." The sincerity and weight of Henry's words landed heavily on Emma's heart.

"Well, let's do one box at least? Then we can meet my parents for dinner at Granny's?"

"Using food as a reward mechanism?" Henry teased, showing some of the weight bearing down on him had been lifted.

"It's the Swan method," Emma threw back as she stood, grabbed the box cutter, and moved next to the constructed fort. "Come on Kid, open one, and let's integrate your mom into this home."

Emma had expected Henry to display torment as he unpacked the things he had preserved. However, he became increasingly animated as they found surface after surface to place Regina's former possessions. It helped that Emma didn't have much and their new apartment was sparsely furnished. Yet it never felt like a condensed version of the mansion. Instead, Regina's spirit seemed to complement Emma's tastes perfectly.

* * *

Emma spent another restless night counting the passing of time until it was an acceptable hour to rise. It was close to 4 A.M. when she finally relented to her craving, opening Regina's case file and analyzing the pages once more. The Sheriff hoped that the dim light of her room would highlight a clue lost in the mass of pictures, statements, and forensic reports. It wasn't until she drained her third cup of coffee that Emma acknowledged she wasn't searching for an explanation or a villain any longer. She was trying to find a reason to keep going. Something tangible to regain belief that there was a sinister reason for the Mayor's death. She knew she was the only one still fighting, still resisting a truth that everyone had accepted.

Dawn had barely broken as the fog rose and scattered its light. Emma's heavy footsteps crunched on the frost laden ground, and her misty breath hit her face as she walked towards the Mills' family mausoleum. Emma hadn't been able to enter the sanctuary since the funeral. Instead, she had walked to the door many times, laid flowers by it while making promises to keep searching for the truth, to get the revenge Regina deserved. Today though, Emma hadn't brought a token of life to lay, nor a rambled discourse about cover-ups and murder. She had come for permission. Permission to let go and accept that the brunette had inexplicably been taken from them.

Emma had expected it to feel cool in the stale entombed air as it had many times previously when she and Regina had entered to access the magic below. Yet, the atmosphere was welcoming, instigated by a candle that flickered next to Regina's urn.

"Henry," Emma whispered as she analyzed the deep purple hand painted plate it sat upon and read the inscribed words:  **I know you don't like the dark.**

Henry's grief was evident wherever Emma's eyes fell. He had made a study area for himself in the corner, complete with textbooks and legal pads that covered the floor. A small neat stack of comics sat in an empty cubby, with a few of Regina's spell books in another. His storybook lay open at the page where Daniel was killed in front of his mother. He had bookmarked it with a torn note that read:  **Hope he's making you happy, but you'd have been happier here, with us.**

Emma mentally scanned the past few months for clues that Henry had been here, suffering alone. Questions raced through her brain as she began to comprehend the magnitude to which she had failed him. Had she simply not noticed, or chosen not to? Where did she think he was when he was here? Had her actions made everything worse for him? Emma had been so consumed by understanding Regina's last few minutes that she neglected to see the life in front of her. She didn't need a sign to know her decision that morning was correct, but here in this room, Henry had provided it. He had always come through for her, even unintentionally.

Emma turned, resolutely, and stared at Regina's urn. She didn't know what she believed in; whether the spirits of the dead existed and if they did, if they could hear or be present. She watched as the light from the flame danced across the varnished chestnut surface while she found the courage to finally ask.

"Would it be okay… would… would it be okay if I let it go? Can I stop looking for revenge and just miss you?" Emma stammered in a hushed trembling voice. She didn't know what to expect in return for her plea as uncontrolled tears began to cascade. Despite talking to the dead, to inanimate objects that couldn't offer guidance or solace, Emma felt relief in her words, a sense that the world wouldn't end if she moved on. As the Sherriff shook away her tears and regained some composure, her eyes were drawn back to the only bright color in the room - the flicking candle that was close to expiration. The tiny flame began to sway, swell, and move from an unperceivable force. With shocking abruptness, it was gone. No lasting embers smoldered, no smoky fire dissipated into the air. Emma was enthralled by such actions that defied normalcy. It had her unwavering attention.

"Regina?" She asked with both excitement and horror. Her suspicions were confirmed moments later when, with an incredible intensity and glow, the flame reignited filling the room with warmth and a feeling of unrestrained joy. The fire was dancing in time to music that Emma couldn't hear.

"You always did have a flair for fire magic," Emma joked at the gesture. "Thank you," Emma whispered, forcing a smile to cover her torment. "I'll do a better job of taking care of him from now on. Our son. I promise," Emma uttered as she allowed her fingers to linger on top of the plate. The blonde remained stationary while the flame swelled once again, showing more red than was elementally possible. Emma's tears continued to fall with each blink as she watched the beautiful, bittersweet show before the flame returned to its natural banal form.

Emma finally lightly grazed her fingertips over Regina's final resting place before she turned to gather Henry's belongings. She opened the crypt's door to the waking world. The rising sun continued to illuminate the lingering fog that lay over the ground, as the frost battled to remain in existence. The sunlight was enough to make Emma squint and turn back to look inside for refuge. The mausoleum's inner dark edges were softer, the hues warmer than they had been when she entered.

"It's a beautiful sunrise. Enjoy it, Regina. I'll be back later with Henry." Emma turned and walked across the graveyard, leaving the door ajar so the light of the day would shine in and warm the darkness.

* * *

Henry sat eagerly at their dining room table waiting for Emma to place the weekly dish of lasagna before him.

"I think this will be the one, Ma! You were so close last time."

"Hope so, Kid. The last one was a little bland, right? So, I added more red pepper flakes tonight."

"Fifteenth's times the charm," Henry jested as he started cutting pieces for them both from the freshly placed dish as Emma plopped a generous portion of salad onto both plates. Once the food was distributed, Henry's left hand sought and held Emma's right. A sudden wave of sadness washed over the pair.

"I'll start tonight," Emma said tentatively as she sensed Henry wasn't quite ready. "Regina, I could've really used your help this week. My magic, it's unpredictable. I've just been trying to light candles, basic elemental manipulation-"

"How many fires?" Henry interrupted unable to hold back his snigger.

"Several, which erased a few misdemeanor reports that were on my desk." Emma turned her attention to the candle that resided in the center of the table. She concentrated hard as she tried to ignite a flame. A little smoke entered the atmosphere, but no warmth appeared. "See?" Emma declared to the air. The blonde fell silent, unsure of what else she needed to share.

"I got an A-minus on my calculus exam," Henry said, his voice thicker than normal. Their eyes met and both shared a glimpse of the pain and sorrow they carried every day. Henry rapidly released his hand from his mother's tight grasp and hastily shoveled a forkful of lasagna into his mouth. Emma waited for him to declare it didn't taste right, that something was wrong with the flavor, texture, the temperature.

"Ma! It's perfect! It tastes exactly like Mom's!" The vigor with which he consumed forkful after forkful startled Emma. She sat quietly and listened as Henry excitedly told her about his day, about his latest game and the level he was playing on his XBOX. He'd finished his second helping before Emma had finished her first; she was filled with joy listening to Henry's banter.

As the meal progressed and the apple turnover dessert that Henry had made was devoured, the pair filled the room with laughter and talk of a short trip to New York. Henry had a lot of summer vacation time looming that needed to be filled. Both felt a mother-son adventure to see museums, Broadway shows, and sporting events would be an ideal way spend some of that time.

"Go finish your homework and I'll clean up. Then we can watch a movie. I'll even let you pick," Emma instructed as she rose from the table signaling their dinner had concluded.

"I love that you're my ma," he said as he offered a parting hug before retreating to his room without giving Emma the opportunity to reply.

Quietly Emma cleared the table and began to tidy the kitchen, a task she had found therapeutic in her new domestic-based life. The blonde let out a grateful sigh as she ran her fingers over Regina's handwritten cookbook and placed it back in the cupboard. Emma hadn't needed to read the lasagna recipe in months. She had made it exactly as written each time, without variation.

* * *

Emma sighed heavily as she swiveled in her office chair. She was acutely aware that she had been restless for days as she stared at the file that had gathered not only dust but had grown a sense of belonging on her desk. It had been months since she had perused the information pertaining to Regina's death. The case had remained officially open; Emma simply couldn't bring herself to close it. Since that morning in the mausoleum, Emma didn't think there would be a new lead, a new avenue for her to investigate. She guiltily knew it hadn't even crossed her mind often in the interim. Regina was gone, that was all Emma concerned herself with. Not the how or why.

There wasn't anything significant attached to this particular day. It wasn't an anniversary, a birthday, a day when events reminded the blonde of her former boss more than usual. Rather, it had been a feeling that burned into her as she closed other cases, filling them in the archives where they belonged. With a moment's contemplation, she reached for the Mayor's file, which was thick with photographs and nearly unintelligible notes that Emma had sprawled onto legal paper several months earlier.

It had only taken Emma an hour to have every shred of paper from the file either taped to her office wall or placed strategically on the floor. She was standing in the middle of it all when David found her, using a proffered cup of coffee as his excuse to enter.

"Emma-" he began, a little shocked and disturbed by Emma's decline towards obsessing over Regina's accident once more. He thought she had finally started to heal as the months became warmer.

"I'm just checking. One last time before I officially close it." Emma gave a reassuring smile and took the cup gratefully. "Would you mind talking it over with me?"

David didn't hide his relief as he sat down waiting for the impromptu presentation to begin. Emma went over the condition of the car, including mechanic reports that stated the vehicle had passed its most recent service just weeks before the accident. They looked at photographs of the tire tracks on the road, analyzed the little forensic evidence they had from an apparent paint transfer. They poured over fingerprint analysis, which took them well past lunch. The minute details of Emma's fruitless magical investigation were reviewed next, which concluded there were no traces of spells, potions or anything that indicated Regina's magic wasn't functional. It wasn't until they had digested the eye witness reports that they lastly studied the few items that were inside the car. Emma had to pause to maintain her composure as she internally fully accepted that an accident was the cause. There was nothing in the case file that ever suggested otherwise.

Without declaration, the Sheriff began removing the papers and photographs and returning them back to the folder as fast as she had pinned them up. Reflexively, they were put in order, such was her familiarity with each document that the file had contained. David watched his daughter silently as he was completely at a loss for words. Nothing about hope or comfort came to mind as he watched the last fragments of acceptance enter his daughter's soul. Stoically, he waited for Emma to finish and watched as she filled in the paperwork officially closing the case, with the judgment determined to be, "traffic accident caused by inclement weather, with distracted driving as a possible extenuating circumstance."

"It happened quickly," David finally offered.

"Quick was worse in this instance. It didn't give her time to use her magic. To save herself," Emma concluded solemnly. "She was so used to living without magic that maybe it didn't occur to her until it was too late."

"I'll get her personal effects. You can take them home to Henry." Both noted the emotion David's voice was laced with as he rose from the chair.

"Right, her expired credit cards and a used Chapstick, excellent inheritance," Emma remarked, trying to lighten the load that was beating down on her heart.

"There was something else Regina had on her that night. I think every night. I didn't include it in the report." Emma's eyes immediately went wide both in anger that crucial evidence may have been withheld and with excitement that maybe there was something, someone she could blame. "It has nothing to do with the case. It's just something I didn't think you were ready to see."

"Dad… I'm not following."

"I'll get the box with her things, and I'll head out on patrol to give you some privacy. Just… just be honest with yourself," David cryptically stated while resting a loving hand on his bemused daughter's shoulder. He removed the file and returned a few minutes later to find Emma had barely moved, though her expression had reverted to anger.

Wordlessly, he placed a standard cardboard container on her desk, looked at the box, then into his daughter's eyes before silently nodding, his expression showing nothing but deep emotional pain. Her father's actions and demeanor perplexed Emma to the extent that she wasn't certain she wanted to learn what her father had hidden from her. What could Regina possibly have in her possession that, when unveiled, would require Emma to need time alone to process? They had long moved past being enemies, ready to kill each other at a moment's notice. Their co-parenting of Henry seemed to be progressing with only a few points of hostility and resentment. What horrific item could be in front of her that contained a truth that she had to be protected from?

Emma held her breath as she lifted the top off, only to be confused as the banalest of items were revealed to her. It was everything in the inventory, including the cracked phone, coins, a pen, and her daily notebook. Emma felt the objects curiously, desperate to see what her father had. She took each item, in turn, leaving the notebook for last, since she had rifled through its pages endlessly, searching for clues. Therefore, Emma doubted it held anything of value.

It wasn't until she finally picked up the black leather-bound book that she noticed it was heavier and thicker than she recalled. Emma unfastened it eagerly and was shocked when an envelope landed on the desk with a thud. The paper was worn, crinkled, and complete with a few tears and stains. Everything about its tattered appearance went against the version of Regina that she had come to know. Emma opened it with cautious curiosity, and her heart leapt as she saw what it contained. Photographs. Photographs of Henry.

The first was him as a baby on the day Regina had adopted him. The next, his first birthday, followed by one where he was a toddler pointing at a boat by the sea. Emma quickly understood that there was one for every year of Henry's life. As she analyzed each, in turn, she saw her son grow up in front of her, year after year, in order. She had seen pictures of his childhood before, but seeing them like this, knowing that Regina kept them with her only intensified the sorrow she felt for her son. The photographs showed as much wear and tear as the envelope that contained them, especially the earlier ones. It was evident Regina had carried the first photograph with her since the day she had brought their son to Storybrooke.

However, it wasn't a picture of Henry that caused the cascade of tears to fall down the blonde's cheeks. It was a picture of herself adorning the Sheriff's uniform she had reluctantly worn once. A photograph of Henry in his school uniform followed before the final one in the stack which showed Emma sitting next to Henry as the pair laughed during a weekly dinner at Granny's. It had been taken just weeks before the Mayor died. On the back, Regina had written, "Family, 2012".

David had been correct in his assumption. Emma shook with grief as she understood what she had meant to Regina. The feelings that went unspoken. The sense of loss hit Emma as if it were fresh, as though she was looking into Regina's lifeless eyes once more. Though, if she were capable of fully processing this instant, she would know that this was worse. She hadn't lost a friend or a co-parent. She had lost a partner. Someone that loved her, that wanted her. Emma immediately understood why she couldn't let go, why she wasn't willing to admit that Regina had been taken in a moment that surmised to being a cruel twist of fate. Emma loved Regina. She had wanted their family to feel whole, but she hadn't had the courage to ignite their mutual fire. It was only now, as she stared at these photographs, that Emma could finally let go and grieve, understanding all they represented.

That in a land full of fairy tales, theirs was the greatest love story that would never be told.


End file.
